


season 9

by gingerbreadlove



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Multi, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:58:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerbreadlove/pseuds/gingerbreadlove
Summary: The year is 2028, and the SHIELD team still stands...or sits...This fic is basically just a fun collection of the team's interactions 10 years later! What if May was confined to a wheelchair? What stories does Coulson tell his "grandchildren"? What happens on a double date between Fitzsimmons and Quakerider? I'll try to include all the characters at one point or another, including (but not limited to): Philinda, Mackelena, Quakerider, Huntingbird, Fitzsimmons, and more :))) Not all characters will be in every chapter, and you'll probably see more Jemma and Fitz than others because I'm most comfortable writing for them, but I'll do my best to give somewhat balanced "screen-time".It's inspired by one of Iain's posts with Ming in a wheelchair, which he captioned "Season 9" :))





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> i try to be funny, but i know i'm not really so ignore me lol. this fic is basically like season 1a level of happiness, but it it's in the future and there are kids of course :))) thanks for reading! hope you enjoy!

The year is 2028, and the SHIELD team still stands...or sits...

 

“...and the little blue button is for eme-- wait! -  _ May _ !” Fitz’s intricate explanation of the personalized wheelchair’s capabilities was cut off as he looked up from his tablet screen just in time to see the older agent zooming down the hallway of the base. “I haven’t finished telling you the functions!” He yelled after her, exasperatedly raising his hands to the back of his head.

Hearing Fitz cry out, Jemma appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised in a concerned expression.

“What--?” She asked, him, glancing into the hall where his alarmed gaze was fixed. 

“May just…” He shook his head, mouth hanging open.

Simmons narrowed her eyes at him, questioningly. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“She bolted.” He stated, voice unreasonably high-pitched. 

Jemma’s eyes widened at him, and she rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Fitz!  _ Don’t just stand there _ !”

He didn’t have time to protest as to  _ why _ he hadn’t moved before his wife had bolted out the door in chase of May. 

He huffed an agitated breath, tossing the tablet onto the nearest counter. 

“ _ Bloody hell _ .” He hissed through gritted teeth, and followed suit, darting after the two women.

He wasn’t far behind Jemma, but the legendary Calvary was far ahead. His breathing heavy as he turned yet another corner at a full-on sprint, though still falling behind from Jemma, Fitz was cursing himself for adding the 75bhp 90 degree V-twin motor that gave the wheelchair a top speed of nearly 200 kph. They’d never catch up.

Making a sharp turn around another corner, Fitz crashed into Jemma, who had stopped abruptly.

The pair let out surprised yelps and tumbled to the ground with a thud.

Jemma glared at Fitz as they untangled themselves and sat up off the tile floor.

 

“Really, Fitz?!--”

“‘Really, _ Fitz _ ’?!  _ You _ were the one who--”

“--couldn’t have stopped soone--” 

“--stop just around a blind cor--”

“--wouldn’t have had to run the Olympic 

trials around the base if you hadn’t-----” 

 

Fitz spotted the reason that Simmons had halted so suddenly, and his eyes widened with disbelief, cutting Jemma off a third time.

“May! What the--”

“ _ Hello _ Agent May it’s so good to see you’re getting around with ease again.” Jemma’s voice drowned out the rest of Fitz’s sentence, and she gave him a sidelong evil eye. She was trying very hard to suppress how desperately she was gulping down air, wiping the dusting of sweat from her brow without drawing attention to her action.

Fitz shook his head, leaning heavily on the brick wall, lungs burning and chest tight as he bent over, trying to refill his lungs with the oxygen they had been starved of for the past - he glanced at his watch, then slumped further against the wall -  _ one and a half minutes? _

“I thought you two had grown up, but you still bicker like children.” May commented, smirking at the fast-paced exchange of words between the couple. 

Jemma tightened her lips, huffing slightly, but when she caught Fitz’s eye, a smile tugged her lips up and she rolled her eyes helplessly. After all they’d been through, it was impossible not to grow up, but it was exactly that which made them cherish the moments where they could afford to act like they always had. So what if it was childish?

“You haven’t aged a bit yourself,” Fitz replied cheekily, face still flushed from exertion, “speeding around the halls of the base and what-not. Clocking in at, oh...100 kilometers per hour?”

May smirked, pleased with herself. Jemma’s eyebrows shot up, and she turned to face Fitz. 

“Her wheelchair goes _ how fast _ , exactly?” Her tone was the accusatory ‘Mum’ tone he’d grown accustomed to hearing, and he grimaced, raising his hand to rub his beard.

“Er, uh, well--You see…” His eyes were on his feet, and his voice faded to a mumble.

Jemma shook her head to scold him, yet her eyes flickered with fondness, knowing he had given May enhanced speed in the chair to give her the feeling of being mobile and free again instead of being confined to the typical chair that inched along like the one she’d been grumbling about after just 12 hours in it.

“‘S not like I gave it jet fuel.” Fitz mumbled after a moment of silence. 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Of course not,  _ that _ would be impractical, and a waste of the Earth’s precious resources.” She scoffed, but her eyes retained their softness toward him. Their arguing was solely play.

Fitz pressed his lips together tightly, glaring through his heart eyes. His gaze was stolen away as he caught May growing impatient.

“Will you two get over yourselves?” She sighed, looking pointedly at them, though there was a fondness behind her creased eyes as well. “Where are the kids?”

Fitzsimmons smiled softly at the mention of their children. 

“With Coulson.” Fitz answered, blue eyes dancing with light.

May looked uncertain about the parenting choice to leave Coulson in charge of three children, but didn’t say anything on the subject--her look was enough. “Well, if you will let me through, I’d like to go save them from history lectures.” She smirked.

“Right.” Jemma nodded, blowing out an apologetic breath as she stepped out of the way, pressing close to Fitz. “So sorry.”

Fitz had his hand on Jemma’s arm as May began moving again. “Just, obey the speed limit…” He called.

“What was that?” May hollarred back, an evil smile creasing her lips as she sped up, choosing to ignore Fitz’s rules.

Fitz and Jemma shared a look, rolling their eyes hopelessly. 


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Skye, Rose, and James, the second gen. bus kids who Coulson is intent to make into WW2 nerds while May's heart swoons for them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i'm really great with chapter titles lately. also, i've been trying to come up with an actual plot for this fic, but only goofy fluff has come out so far oops lol. it's better than angst tho, so...

Two pairs of brown eyes and one pair of clear blue stared up at Coulson with intrigue as he explained the German aircrafts of World War II. 

“...There were 93 different types of aircraft used by the Germans.” He told them.

“Ninety-three?” Rose whispered in awe, curious brown eyes shining just like her mother’s.

Coulson raised his eyebrows, mouth curving into a smile. “Ninety-three.” He confirmed, handing the six-year-old the little model plane he had been showing off. “That one’s name is Dornier Do 17.” He told her, and she narrowed her eyes to study it, another thing she had picked up from her mother. 

“Tha’s an odd name for a plane.” She told him. Her brother reached for the aircraft, but she held it away from his reach. “ ‘s mine, James.” She scowled. 

“I wan’ one too! Rooose...” He complained, but Coulson was already on top of that. When the curly-haired boy turned back around, mumbling about unfairness, there was a second plane being handed to  _ him _ . 

“Fieseler Fi 156.” Coulson let the boy take the plane, examining it with excitement. His eyes turned down to the youngest child, who sat on his knee, looking perfectly content with her little model of Lola.

“What did it do?” James asked, his blue eyes looking up with deep curiosity. Another question lingered on his tongue--his most common question:  _ how does it work? _ \--but he held his lips shut, wiggling a bit as he awaited an answer. He was doing his best to be patient, but it wasn’t always something he was good with, especially when it came to waiting for information.

Coulson leaned over with a soft smile, picking up the car as little Skye let it slip to the floor. She had turned to him with pouty lips and irresistible eyes, already gleaming with tears. How was he supposed to resist? James was about to repeat the question when, finally, the answer came. “The Fieseler was used for  reconnaissance and communication, and the Dornier was a night-bomber.” He explained Rose’s plane before she had a chance to ask about it, knowing how these children and their curiosity worked. Just like their parents.

James scoffed, forgetting his second question,  setting his little Boeing-shaped plane down and looking over at Rose with jealousy. “She gets the bomber? Tha’s so much cooler.” He crossed his arms, sniffing.

Coulson chuckled, quickly coming up with a mediating solution. Usually James was in a better mood. “Actually, no matter what plane you get, it’s cool.” He told them. “Because all of them worked together to make each attack. Without one part of the Luftwaffe, the attacks wouldn’t have succeeded.” James raised an eyebrow, studying his plane again with his gaze, but stubbornly refusing to pick it up and give into the fact that his reaction was wrong. “You see,” Coulson continued, “for their attack strategy, communication was key. Blitzkrieg demands going in and out  _ fast _ so they wouldn’t get attacked. They had to know exactly when to get out and when to drop the bombs, otherwise, they’d end up bombing open fields.” He nodded at the boy. “Communication was just as important as the bombs themselves.”

James nodded, surrendering to his curiosity once again and picking up the plane. “Communication was just as important...” He sighed, turning his eyes up to the man. “But I wanted to make the pshwww sound and go...” He moved his hands to mimic an explosion, and little drops of spit flew from his mouth as he added sound effects. 

“Ew! You spat on me!” Rose squealed, leaning away. That only encouraged her older brother, who leaned closer to her, making another explosion and laughing. “Schtop it…” She whined, holding up her plane. 

“You can’t make me.” He told her, continuing.

“ _ I’m _ the one with the bomber. You can’t make the noises.” She directed, pushing him away and beginning her own chorus of mock-explosions.

James glared, though he was smiling now. “But  _ I _ run communication. You don’t get to go ‘pshoww’ until I say so.” He told her, standing up and covering his mouth to make a radio voice. 

“Then get on with it.” She rolled her golden eyes, raising her eyebrows with impatience.

James smiled, motioning her to get up and fly the plane around. “This is Fiesler Fi to Dornier Do, you are clear to drop the explosives.” 

Rose grinned, jumping into the air with an emphatic “BOOM”.

Glancing up at the shelves of Coulson’s office with a grin, James continued his radio relay of information. “Dornier Do, watch out! We didn’t see this till now! The Allies are behind you! It’s--CAPTAIN AMERICA!” He exclaimed, pulling down an action figure that he’d been playing with earlier. “He’s come to take down our fleet!” 

Rose let out a screech, and Coulson grinned, though he made a mental note to add into the next lesson that Captain America wasn’t actually a pilot. Both kids fell to the ground in offset “Pshwww!” and “Boom!!”s. Rolling on her back, Rose caught a glance of a figure in the doorway. She scrambled to her feet with a gasp, and James followed. Coulson let Skye slide off his lap with a little grin and find her way over to the military-style line-up that had formed in the presence of Melinda May. He gave a loving smirk at her over the heads of the children. 

She lifted her chin at the kids, wearing an emotionless face for a few seconds before letting a smile break the surface. “Well, come here!” She said, and they obediently ran to hug her in her chair, her joy infecting them. “Oh my goodness you’ve gotten big.” She told the three of them, pulling Skye up into her lap while the older kids hung on the arms of her new chair. 

“I'm fouw.” The miniature version of Daisy informed her, holding up the appropriate amount of fingers. May shook her head. 

“Already? I don't think so.” She teased with a smile.

James nodded his support as Skye began protesting May’s accusation. “She is, Aunt May. And I'll be eight in a month!” He grinned brightly, two gaps framing his front teeth. 

May shook her head again and laughed. Coulson smiled from his spot, adoring the way the kids made her light up.

“How about we all go get some lunch?” She said, beginning to turn around for the kitchen. “Phil, you coming?” She asked, though it was less of a question, and more of a statement.

“Right behind you.” He smiled, standing up, and missing the times when his body didn't ache from the simple act. He trailed after her.

“Not for long.” She told him with a smirk, and sped up, Skye grinning on her lap while she let Coulson and the Fitzsimmons kids sprint after her.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say bus kids?? Daisy and Fitzsimmons chat playfully, glad to see each other, and Robbie joins a bit in. You’ll learn there are a few secrets floating around...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i’m so terrible about updating. i run in and out of motivation and can’t even think half the time, and i’d rather give y’all stuff i’ve spent time and thought on than something i scooped off the top of my messy brain just so i’d have something to share. this chapter is basically them joking even though i lack a sense of humor sorry.

Daisy found Jemma and Fitz in the hall a few minutes after their abandonment. She grinned and ran up behind them. 

“Hey, you two!” She exclaimed, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders, more than happy to see their faces at the base. 

“Daisy!” Jemma smiled back, pulling her into a hug all to her own.

“Get a room.” Fitz scoffed, rolling his eyes as they hugged for more than a blink, clinging to each other with the joy of seeing the exact person they’d been missing.

Jemma sighed with a smile, taking the opportunity to tease him. “Aw Fitz, we didn't mean to make you feel lonely.”

Daisy laughed and reached out an arm, pulling him into the hug. “Better, you nerd?” She laughed, then let out a squeak as someone pinched her side. “Hey!”

Jemma smirked at her. “Watch it. That’s  _ my _ nerd.” She turned to place a kiss on Fitz’s cheek.

He instead turned to latch onto Daisy. “So sure, Jem? You don’t know what  _ we _ do when we’re alone.” He teased, placing a kiss on Daisy’s cheek. Daisy laughed, easily playing along and wiggling her eyebrows at Jemma, who rolled her eyes.

“You two throw socks at each other when I’m gone and you can’t deny it.” She lifted an eyebrow amusedly. 

Fitz smirked at her. “In the most romantic way.” 

Daisy nodded in support, and they were all chuckling now.

Jemma hummed in amusement. “Don’t let Robbie hear that.” She thought back to when she’d caught Daisy chasing Fitz around, sock in hand, and he had been howling complaints the whole time, tripping and yanking off his own sock to keep her back. “But I agree. Sock fights are  _ incredibly  _ romantic _. _ ”

Fitz stepped over to Jemma, kissing her cheek with a smug look. “ _ We _ could make it romantic.” He said softly to her.

“Okay, you two are officially disgusting.” Daisy fake-choked, and Jemma raised her eyebrows as if to say ‘Excuse me?’. Daisy pasted on her sweetest fake smile. “In the best way, of course.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes with skepticism which was broken by a chuckle, then looked at her watch. “We should go ha--”

“Have a threesome? Now is really not the time for that, Jemma.” Fitz teased, and Daisy laughed as Jemma sighed again. “Just like you to be so suggestive, though.”

“Are you quite finished?” Jemma pursed her lips strongly, arms now folding across her stomach, her amusement only showing through in the glint of her eyes. “We should _ go have lunch _ .” She finished, maintaining her disapproving look, but sliding her arm around his waist. “We can all talk about our bed plans later.” She smirked at him.

Daisy scrunched her nose, making a face. “Or not.” She replied, leading the way to the kitchen.

“You don’t want to talk about your  _ experience _ s with your  _ devilishly  _ handsome husband?” Fitz teased, but Daisy ignored him and his eye-roll-worthy pun. “Where is Robbie anyhow?” Fitz glanced over his shoulder as if the leather-clad man would have materialized behind him.

“Why?” Daisy hummed in fake suspicion. “You expecting a soul-burning justice visit?” 

Letting out an extraordinarily dry “Ha ha,” Fitz placed his hands on his hips, “Very funny, but no.”   
“Gabe sent a package with us to deliver to his brother if we saw him.” Jemma explained for her husband, hand having slipped from his waist to his hand, which she mindlessly stroked with her thumb. 

“I can get it to him if—“ Their friend shrugged, glancing between the two.

Fitz shook his head, beginning his sentence the same as Jemma before she motioned for him to carry on. “He—He specified to keep it from you.” 

Daisy frowned, eyebrows working in confusion. Why would he want to hide the package? Jemma looked back at her friend, raising an eyebrow. If anyone had clues about the package, it would be Daisy. Shaking her head, Daisy let out a soft “hmph”, humming as she pondered. Strange. The topic changed when they turned the corner.

“What do you want?” Jemma asked as they reached the kitchen, the two others taking a seat. 

“Food.” Fitz answered with a smile.

Jemma tilted her head, unamused. “Not. Helpful.” She looked to Daisy for a more insightful opinion on their lunch. 

“Whatever you’re willing to prepare,  _ mom _ .” She gave a kid-ish smile.

Jemma sighed, shaking her head.  _ Honestly _ , she thought, they were worse than the children . “Peas...brussel sprouts...Spam--” She listed off, going through the fridge (and seeing none of the items she had just listed). 

“Taco wraps!” Daisy’s exclamation dang through the room, desperate to save them all from some tragically healthy meal that would make their taste buds pack up and leave. Her stomach was twisting at the mere thought.

Jemma smiled adoringly, having successfully forced someone to make a decision. “Taco wraps it is, then.” She pulled out some chicken, cheese, tortillas, and vegetables to add, and began to put them together.

“Nono, please don’t open that.” Daisy pleaded a bit too forcefully as Jemma’s hand set itself to twist off the lid of the salsa. She raised an eyebrow, freezing.

“You don’t want any salsa? I thought you liked adding a little heat to everything.” Jemma smirked as a small snort of appreciation for her double-meaning came from Fitz, then looked up at Daisy again, whose face hadn’t changed from a desperate look. Sliding the salsa to the side, Jemma shrugged. “You’re the only one of us who would use it anyway.”

Daisy sat back in her chair looking relieved. “Thanks.” (and thank God for their taste-buds which still cling to the blander seasoning choices of their homelands). She said as Jemma focused back on the wraps, pressing her lips together in a knowing look, but, thankfully, not voicing her thoughts. 

Her gentle hum of calculated approval made Fitz look up. His attention caught, Jemma gestured toward the fridge. “How about slicing some oranges?” Her request was met by a sigh as Fitz got to his feet bearing a look that told her he was only obliging because he loved her oh-so-very-much.

Jemma rolled her eyes at his response. “I do so appreciate your enthusiasm.”

He gave a smug smile, grabbing two oranges in one hand, then coming up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he let his breath tickle her neck. “I know you do.” He said, to which she chuckled, a smile pulling at the corner of her lip.

Daisy was in the middle of raising her eyebrows, prepared to make a remark about leaving them alone to carry on, when Robbie came into view, draping his leather jacket onto a free area of the counter and slipping his hand around Daisy’s waist, nearly mirroring the position the other couple was in. “Hey there,” He smiled, bending to kiss her forehead.

Daisy moved quickly, tilting her head up so he caught her lips instead, and he pulled away laughing softly, his amused chuckle a soft rumble in his throat.

“Someone’s glad to see me.” He didn’t move from her side as he looked up, nodding in greetings. “Fitz, Simmons.”

“Robbie, good to see you again.” Fitz said, raising a finger into the air. “We’ve got something from Gabe to give to you--don’t let us forget about it.” He grabbed a knife from the drawer and began cutting up the oranges, as instructed. 

Robbie nodded, “Sure thing, but it’s not as if you guys ever forget anything.”

Daisy smirked at his comment then scoffed. “Apparently it’s a Robbie-only package, no Daisys allowed.” She lifted an eyebrow, looking up at him for answers.

“How interesting,” He said with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, making Daisy all-the-more desperate for answers. “Guess you’ll have to wait till I open it for you.”

Daisy heaved a sigh, turning back to Fitzsimmons, “Can you believe him?” She shook her head.

Jemma laughed, and Fitz only made a small face of amusement.

“Would tonight be too early to open this...Non-Daisy parcel?” Jemma asked, playing only casual interest, glancing between the three others as she slid them plates. “We could all go to dinner...force Coulson and May to enjoy the kids for a bit longer...catch up on some important goings-on?” 

Robbie glanced at Daisy, who was grinning at Jemma’s tact, before shrugging. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Yes, there are plenty of ‘goings-on’ to catch up on.” Daisy nodded.

All eyes turned to Fitz, the last leg of confirmation, who raised his hands in indifference. “Sure, if that’s what you want.” He shook his head, eyes on Jemma who smiled.

“Perfect.” She stated, grabbing an orange slice and biting in with a pleased exhale as Daisy mouthed a ‘Thank you’ across the counter. Jemma smirked and nodded. Robbie shook his head fondly.

“You always let your wife order you around like this?” He asked Fitz.

Fitz paused mid-bite, eyebrows quirking as he glanced from Robbie to Jemma and back to Robbie. “Pre’y much.” He answered, twisting his lips. “You don’t?” He turned to Daisy, surprised. 

“Well--” Robbie began.

“Oh, he does.” Daisy smirked. “He just doesn’t know it.”


End file.
